


Don't Get Caught

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, handjobs, sex at Bobby's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mantra is don't get caught, but Sam and Dean always seem to be tempting fate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Caught

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fic I'm moving from Tumblr.  
> Warnings for: explicit wincest, sex in Bobby's bathroom (so, risk of getting caught), handjobs, blowjobs.  
> Enjoy!

            Sam pulls Dean into the upstairs hall bathroom and shuts the door as quietly as he can, pushing Dean against it. He leans in, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

            “Fuck, Sammy…” Dean says quietly. “Bobby…”

            “Bobby’s with his books,” Sam says. “Gonna be busy for a while. You keep quiet and he’ll never know anything. Gonna stay quiet for me, Dean?”

            Dean moans because he knows what’s coming, and sure enough Sam falls to his knees, opens Dean’s pants and pushes them along with Dean’s underwear down Dean’s thighs, allowing Dean’s cock to spring free.

            Sam grins up at him. “Already hard for me, Dean?”

            Dean laces his fingers in Sam’s hair and moans. “Shut up,” he grunts. “It’s been  _days_.”

            “You’re the one who wouldn’t let me take care of you last night.”

            “Bobby was sleeping in the next  _room_ ,” Dean argues.

            “Don’t tell me sneaking around doesn’t get you all hot and bothered,” Sam says, leaning forward, gently brushing his lips against Dean’s cock, making Dean bite back a moan.

            “There’s a difference between sneaking around and _actually getting caught_ ,” Dean says, voice fading into a breathy gasp as Sam licks his slit with the very tip of his tongue. “Fuck, Sammy—“

            “Maybe later,” Sam says cheekily. “Right now, I want you to come down my throat.”

            Dean bites his lip to keep himself from moaning aloud as Sam sucks the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth. He tightens his fingers in Sam’s hair a bit. “So fucking good at this, Sammy,” Dean murmurs as Sam takes him deeper, starts to bob his head in a steady rhythm that makes Dean’s head spin. “So,  _so_  good, little brother, Christ–“

            Dean stops talking then, worried about saying something louder than he intends to. He bites his lip and tightens his fingers in Sam’s hair once more, the little tugs a signal to Sam of how crazy he’s making Dean.

            Sam reaches his hands up, slides them around Dean’s hips, down his ass to his thighs and back up. Dean makes a quiet yelping sound when Sam’s fingers push between his cheeks and brush his hole. “Sammy,” he allows himself to say, a low, gravelly whisper that makes Sam shiver a bit and suck harder.

            Sam continues to tease Dean’s hole, one finger tracing his rim while he continues to suck Dean’s cock, and Dean lets his eyes slide closed, takes one hand out of Sam’s hair so he can brace it against the door.

            He wants to tell Sam how perfect this is, how close he is, but a slight squeeze by the hand still in Sam’s hair is the best he can manage before he’s shooting down Sam’s throat, biting his lip hard enough he’s worried he’ll draw blood.

            Sam lets Dean’s spent cock fall from his mouth and stands, his own hard cock obvious now. “What can I do?” Dean asks, already reaching for Sam’s belt.

            Dean gets Sam’s pants opened just as Sam is muttering, “your hand, Dean, god, want your hands on me.”

            “Yeah?” Dean asks, pushing Sam’s pants down. “I can do that, Sammy, just—mmph,” he says, interrupted by Sam fisting his shirt and pulling Dean into a hard, biting kiss. Dean moans, tasting his own come in Sam’s mouth. He works a hand between them and begins to stroke Sam’s cock. Sam starts pushing into Dean’s grip.

            He bites at Dean’s lower lip, hard, insistent, before softening it with an apologetic lick and a gentle nip. Dean thinks about how bruised their lips are going to be, how obvious, how  _stupid_  what they’re doing is—

            Sam moans into his mouth and Dean stops thinking of anything but Sam’s lips, his tongue, his cock in Dean’s hand, Sam’s eager hands still fishes in Dean’s t-shirt, holding Dean as if he might possibly ever think of leaving this. He starts jacking Sam’s cock faster, using Sam’s own pre-come as slick. Sam’s moans grow louder and louder until they’re barely muffled by Dean’s lips.

            Sam comes with a muffled yell that Dean sincerely hopes Bobby does not decide to investigate.

            Dean releases Sam’s cock but keeps kissing Sam, gently now, for a minute or two longer. He pulls away and smiles at Sam, whose lips are bruised and eyes glazed. “Love you, Sammy,” he murmurs. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

            There’s only so much they can do, but Dean wipes them off and gets their pants up. Their clothes and hair are rumpled and their lips swollen. They’ll just have to hope Bobby doesn’t look too closely.

            Sam tries to smooth out his clothes and laughs softly.

            “What?” Dean asks.

            “Just like—remember that time, you got come on my shirt but we didn’t notice til after we went down for dinner?”

            Dean smiles a bit. “Oh, yeah. Bound to happen. I mean, we had sex everywhere that week. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Can’t believe Bobby never noticed. We’ve given him enough opportunities, all the times we’ve fucked here.”

            “You love it,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t argue.

            They leave the bathroom and Sam goes downstairs, Dean following a few minutes later to find Sam and Bobby in with the books, Sam looking over some notes of Bobby’s.

            Sam looks up and smiles at Dean, the secret smile that has been theirs since Sam was sixteen. Dean smiles back and goes to look at whatever Bobby finds so important, trailing one hand over Sam’s hip, letting it slide lower to briefly squeeze Sam’s ass before dropping it to his side once more.


End file.
